


The Treaty of Arras

by SketchLockwood



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The White Princess (TV), The White Queen (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 07:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Summary: This story is all about the creation of and reactions to the treaty of Arras, created December 23rd 1482





	The Treaty of Arras

Windsor Castle  
25th December 1482

The courts festivities were in full swing. Edward, John saw, looked the image of magnificence. Dressed in the finest robes, the latest continental fashion and indeed, with recent weight loss so all reported, he indeed was beginning to look once more like the Ned John had once known. Almost. Yet the stress of recent months was visible to those who knew him well. Maybe that was why Elizabeth had a sickeningly close grip on his hand and arm. That, or it was for the face that the Kings doxy, Elizabeth Shore danced too freely before him. 

John Howard could not be sure. 

Indeed, for once this Christmas he could be sure that he did not wish to be at the court. He did not wish to be the one who had to speak to the King. Of course he had told William Hastings already, for was not Will Hastings closer to the King than perhaps even his wife was? Did Edward not love him, favour him over everyone? It was not to everyone Edward granted burial at St George’s chapel. 

Yet Will had shook his head, refused to speak to the King about this matter. 

Christ how sometimes being so close to the King was the hardest task. For now he had to pick his moment. Now he had to wait until Edward was free from his table. He had to wait until- John froze, seeing Edward slip his hand from beneath his wife’s, tapping hers gently before he stood, kissing her cheek in a rosy cheeked display of affection. 

Howard frowned, this was not what he needed. Already he could see from the slight stagger that Edward had, as every day recently, drunk too heavily. All the same, the matter was not to be avoided. John clenched his fist, regained his strength and walked toward the front of the hall where Ned had slipped out, shaking off the hands of people who wished to speak to him. He did not care for anyone else. He could not. 

He closed the door behind him as he left the hall, frowning as Ned stumbled. “Edward!” John spoke louder than he intended. Edward jumped, turned around. 

“Can a man not go to take a piss without being disturbed?” 

“Piss out of the window.” John shrugged. “Then we must find a quiet place-“

“Well John.” Edward smirked. “The offer is lovely, but you’re not my type.” 

“I am not laughing Ned, somewhere quiet to talk.” 

Ned’s expression was suddenly grave. “You must disturb my Christmas with this?”

“I’m afraid so Edward, afraid so.” 

The King nodded. “Very well, painted chamber, give me ten minutes.”

To take a piss? John did not question, only nodded and made his way away. 

 

Was it ten minutes? For it felt like a life time since Edward had told him to wait in this cursed oil and indeed he felt he could wait no longer when the door opened. Ned wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, asking a passing servant for wine. John frowned. Now however was not the time to reproach him for such behaviours. Not if John favoured whatever prosperity he may have left after…

“So you called me here to be silent? Then if you don’t mind-“

“Ned, no. I have bad news, and am trying to work out how to break it to you.”

“You’re sick? John, tell me you are not-“

“I’m neither sick nor dying, yet, Ned, I’m in good health.”

“Then what could possibly be so urgent?”

“France, they have betrayed you.”

“I do not understand.” Edward took a breath, looking at him intently, though his eyes contradicted his words, saying he did, indeed, understand perfectly. 

“Louis and Maximilian, they have made a treaty in Arras, and Ned, it means that Margaret of Burgundy, Mary’s daughter, will marry the dauphin.”

“But Bessy.” He frowned, Ned blushed before skin turned red. Glassware smashed on the tiled floor. “Whoreson!” 

“He also intends-“

“Don’t John.”

“You need to hear this.” Howard was firm, looking at his King with adamant eyes. Edward clenched his fist but nodded for him to continue. “Louis will stop your pensions, your treaty has failed.”

“Christ.” The King closed his eyes. “Oh Christ. Do you know what this means? We stand alone in Europe. We are alone John. My treaty has failed, my alliance with burgundy has failed. Now we must all live with the consequences.” He gave a cold laugh. “You know, it seems my brothers were right! We should have been annihilated by the French when we had the chance, gone out in glory. Not become the weakest player.”

John frowned, what could he say? Only that he was glad Ned hadn’t shot the messenger – yet.


End file.
